


Water

by Kaiyou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Depression, Established Relationship, F/F, Stream of Consciousness, aged up chars, girl sex, suicidal thoughts (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8940211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: Sometimes, Kiyoko thinks of drowning. Sometimes, she feels like she is drowning, trying to push back the tide of emotions and expectations that threaten to overwhelm her. Saeko, however, is the island in the middle of a stormy sea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a step apart from what i usually write, i know, but i got inspired this morning after waking up at 3:30 in an overheated bed. I love Kiyoko (and Saeko), and we need more girls loving girls in this fandom, so here.

Sometimes Kiyoko thinks of drowning.

It wouldn’t be that bad of a way to go, she thinks, crouching down in front of the pond in the field behind her house, one hand pressed against the rough bark of the willow that hangs over the water. She’s heard it’s quiet. Heard you don’t even know you’re drowning, that the burn of desire for oxygen fades into the background in the face of the water’s dark embrace. She reaches her free hand out toward the water, knowing without touching what it would feel like to press her palm against the surface, breaking the tension.

Getting wet.

She ignores the ache in her legs as she balances on the balls of her feet, listening to the subtle hum of insects dancing too and fro in the air, watching as a dragonfly flits by too close as it hunts. Her fingers move and startle it away. If she drowned, she could be a part of the pond as much as the rocks and the soil, giving life to the fishes that dart about in the murky depths. She wouldn’t have to do anything to satisfy their needs. They could just take, nourished by her very existence.

A bell chimes brightly from the street behind her, sound cutting through the spring air. It reminds her of the bicycle she used to ride when she was young, pushing herself up the hill near her house and letting herself go as she coasted down the slope on the other side, back before.

Back before everything.

It reminds her of all the things she would miss, if she lay still at the bottom of the pond, so she pushes herself up and walks back toward the house.

. . .

Voices, questions, criticism. She lets them run over her like water, filtering out her mother’s voice as she answers with well-rehearsed phrases. Sometimes she wonders why her mother asks her about a boyfriend every single day. Maybe memory loss is contagious, maybe her mother is starting to suffer the effects of old age years before her time. It doesn’t matter. She lets her hands run through the routines of the day - cleaning, cooking, preparing a tray and taking it to her father’s room, pushing inside and sitting down to spoon the food into his mouth. His eyes follow her, words locked behind their clouded depths.

She loves her father. She misses her father. Her father had never told her it was unbecoming for her to ride her bike down the hill. He’d cheered at her track meets. He’d never wanted her to fear. Her mother breathed fear like air.

Grief rises up around her like dust, threatening to choke her lungs, threatening to make her eyes fill up, threatening to pull her close to the emotions that should be kept at arm's length. This is not the type of drowning she wants to let take her.

She thinks of the pond, the placid surface broken only by the wind, and takes a breath, hand steady as she wipes the corner of her father’s mouth and kisses his brow.

. . .

Shopping is a relief because shopping holds a secret.

Bags in hand she walks down the street. She could drive but the store is not far away. The day is warmer now, sun beating down. Houses fall away behind her as she starts to pass small shops, people going about their day. Smiles, bows, nods of the head. No one asks questions. No one pierces the veil of her silence. It’s only broken by the sound of engines humming to life as she comes closer to the Tanaka’s shop, presses a hand against the sun-warmed metal of a car, smiles at the feet sticking out from under the side.

One of the workers in the shop glances up, giving her a guarded look. He suspects, she thinks. Suspects but doesn’t judge. No one here judges, their boss is far from conventional but she is fair, and a good employer.

“Yo! Saeko-san, lunch is here.”

The feet move, revealing the body they’re attached to as Saeko slides out from under the car. It always amazes Kiyoko how Saeko brings light and color into the world. 

“Hey,” Saeko says, rubbing at her cheek and leaving a black mark on her pale skin.

“Hello, Saeko-san,” Kiyoko says, pressing her lips together in amusement at the scowl that crosses Saeko’s face. She lets herself be tugged out of the garage and up the steps to the room above, setting out the two bentos on the living room table while Saeko goes into the bathroom to finish up.

Sitting seiza, she waits.

The creak of floorboards give Saeko away, that and the hands pressing against her shoulder. Kiyoko smiles, bows her head. Saeko slides in behind her, tugging her back, wraps hands around her to slip buttons open with practiced ease. Kiyoko lets her head roll back, feeling the press of lips against the column of her neck. 

At some point, she’ll have to give in to her mother’s demands. Get a boyfriend, get married. It’s a troubling thought but not an overwhelming one. She can still have this. Maybe talk with Sugawara, come to an arrangement that will appease both their parents but still let them keep their respective lovers. A nice, practical arrangement that makes everyone happy.

It wouldn’t make Saeko happy, though, Kiyoko knows that. Not yet, not yet.

And Saeko holds her heart, keeps it safe. Cherishes her. Touches her with hands that tremble as they pull the shirt away from her body, fingers that brush lightly against her back as they unhook her bra. Looks at her with a gaze that doesn’t see the way the dust of grief has caught in the corners of her eyes, that doesn’t know the breaths of time that morning when she thought about becoming mindless on the bottom of the pond. Kiyoko wonders if it would matter if she did see. She thinks, sometimes, of whispering the truth into her skin after they make love, as they lie tangled up in sheets in her lover’s bed, hands pressing apologetically against bruises made moments before. A part of her knows Saeko would love her no matter what she said or did. 

She will hold it back, though, she knows. Keep this space between them sacred, safe from the pain that slices through her life at home.

Instead she turns, pushes Saeko down, watches brown eyes widen with adoration before reaching down and tugging off her lover’s black tank-top, unzipping the black sports bra beneath. Saeko’s breasts are lovely. Larger than her own, nipples dusky and slightly oval shaped, tilted. They are, as always, delicious.

Kiyoko loves these moments. She can get lost in these moments, as she lets her hands wander down Saeko’s body, pushing pants off and out of the way and tugging at underwear so her fingers can slide against the wetness of Saeko’s lips. Another pair of lips cry out as her fingers curl into the depths of that wetness. She captures them with a kiss, drinking in the moans, letting Saeko roll them over and look down at her with lust-darkened eyes.

Bringing her hand to her mouth Kiyoko licks her fingers, watching Saeko’s eyes track her every movement. Saeko tastes like the sea.

Soon there are hands tugging at her own pants and leaving her naked, letting her pull the blond on top of her, skin pressed tight against skin, legs sliding between legs as they lose each other in kisses. She could drown in this and be happy. Drown here, in the ocean of Saeko, and live. Let laughter bubble up from her throat. Crash her fingers again into Saeko’s heated depths, feeling every ripple of her skin as her thumb rubs against Saeko’s clit, curl her fingers and use her teeth to tug at one of Saeko’s nipples and feel Saeko break into a million pieces in her hands.

It is here, now, as she lifts her head and pushes hair back from the sweat off her forehead, that she feels she is bringing good into the world. Here, laughing with delight as Saeko gives her a worshipful gaze. Here, kissing those lips and feeling nimble fingers press against her back. Here, resting against the swells of her lover’s breasts, that she feels at home.

The silent whirlwind at the edges of her heart finally grows silent in these moments, letting her let Saeko press her back onto the floor and spread her legs. There is reverence in Saeko’s eyes as she looks down, presses her lips to Kiyoko’s belly, kisses down soft and gentle before sucking at her lips. Left, then right. Tongue darting forward, spreading the hood of her clit, sucking at it in a way that is almost too much. Saeko knows, though. Smiles against her. Brings her own fingers to bear, pressing inside with a roughness that Kiyoko craves.

She doesn’t need gentle, not now.

She needs to hold and be held, be allowed to pull at Saeko’s hair and pant out her pleasure as fingers ram deep inside her, others curling around her hip to hold her steady, blunt nails digging into her skin. Filthy words escape her mouth, color the air between them. Saeko loves it. Delights that her elegant girlfriend can be just as crude as any of her mechanics when she gets fucked. Kiyoko loves that being fully herself makes her beloved happy.

Her orgasm is a period on the end of a sentence of pleasure, lovely and sweet but also sad because it marks an ending. It’s beautiful, though. Some days Saeko threatens to keep going, wring out the heights of pleasure she knows Kiyoko is capable of, but not today. Today Kiyoko pulls her up and tastes herself on Saeko’s lips, cleans off her fingers with her tongue, falls into languid kisses. They don’t have the time for that type of pleasure, not today.

There are cars that need fixing, after all, and too much time gone would make Kiyoko’s mother start to worry.

So she pulls up from the kisses after a while, brushing the blonde hair from Saeko’s cheek and reminding her that they still have food to eat. The ribald comments that follow make her smile as she pulls her clothes back on and goes to wash her hands, laughing as her lover’s hands still follow her as they stand at the sink, curling around the curve of her ass while Saeko waits her turn.

“I love you,” Saeko says, and it makes Kiyoko’s heart do somersaults in her chest. Makes her blush and duck her head, wanting to return the words but not knowing how.

“I made you tamagoyaki,” she says instead, laughing at the loud whoop that follows. Saeko’s hands are still on her as they go back to the table - tracing the curve of her waist, tugging the strands of her long black hair. She only leaves long enough to bring two glasses of water to the table, sitting down across from Saeko and opening up her bento with a smile.

This wasn’t how Kiyoko expected her life to go.

She never expected to be sitting across from Tanaka’s older sister, using her chopsticks to pick out grains of rice as she listened to Saeko ramble on about her day. She never expected that she would live a life where these moments were an island in a sea that threatened to pull her under, a sea of expectations and needs that she wished would just wash away. Still, she’s thankful. Grateful. She loves, and is loved in return.

She doesn’t even realize that her hand is halfway across the table until Saeko meets it with her own, fingers sliding between fingers as they clasp hands, exchanging silent promises. If the threads of love that bind her to her family house are full of pain, the threads she weaves here are full of peace. Saeko continues to speak. Shoveling food into her mouth with her free hand. Sometimes Kiyoko wonders if she knows, if she has an inkling of the stresses that weary Kiyoko’s world outside of this room. She listens, sometimes, to Saeko’s own troubles; worries about Tanaka and his frustrations at university, worries about his safety in a world that doesn't understand that who he loves doesn’t make him any less capable, any less worthy of respect. They’ve even had arguments about it before, hours where Saeko lashed out at her, accused her of not understanding, accused her of having the perfect life.

Arguments that were followed by apologies, pleas, kisses and questions about why Kiyoko was crying, curled up and facing the wall. Speaking the truth about her home is hard. Some secrets Kiyoko guards fiercely, holding them close like pieces of a broken mirror that would cut anyone else she gave them to, and she never wants to cause Saeko more pain. She parcels them out sparingly, trying to grind down the edges and hand out warnings so her lover knows to handle them carefully, breathing a sigh of relief every time she sees understanding and not confusion in Saeko’s eyes.

Kiyoko loves her. Wants to always love her, wishes she could spend her life here, cooking and cleaning and living with her lover, sleeping the night away in her bed. 

Later, perhaps.

Later, when a new picture sits inside the family shrine in her house. 

But not today.

Reluctantly she finishes her meal and waits a few minutes more, drinking in the sight of Saeko, writing every movement down in her memory. Then she stands and takes the dishes to the sink in her lover’s small kitchen. Saeko uses the shower first, coming in to kiss the back of her neck before going back down to work.

Showers at Saeko’s place are a luxury Kiyoko never takes for granted. Every smell of shampoo reminds her of her lover, the gritty feel of the body wash rubs against shallow scrapes made by her lover’s nails. She wants to hold it all inside, use these memories like life-preservers to keep her afloat as she dives back into the world outside.

The world that threatens to drown her.

Sometimes, it’s so overwhelming that she just wants to let it.

She won’t, though.

She won’t, because here in this space she is loved. Here she has a love worth fighting for, an imperfect person who doesn’t give up on their love, even when Kiyoko proves to be inept or imperfect herself. Saeko holds her heart here and keeps it safe.

It makes Kiyoko smile. 

Brushing her fingers against the wood of the door she takes in a breath and curls her fingers around the handle.

She will not drown.

She will choose life.

It will be good.

Taking a breath, she opens the door and steps out into the world.


End file.
